


Do It All Again

by JulietRose



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Firsts, Fluff, Marriage, Miniature Reunion, Romance, She/Her Pronouns for Thirteen, They/Them Pronouns for Past Doctors, Time Lord Rose Tyler
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-27 14:07:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20047291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JulietRose/pseuds/JulietRose
Summary: The Doctor and Rose have been married for over a thousand years, but regeneration always has a bit of a learning curve—this time more than ever.





	Do It All Again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rosmemetyler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosmemetyler/gifts).

> For @rosmemetyler who asked for first experiences. Probably not exactly what you were thinking, but I hope you like it!

There was always something.

The first time they forgot to tell her it was something that could happen (really, they thought it wouldn’t happen again so soon). They’d been terrified that she wouldn’t accept them, that it would finally be too much—too alien—and she’d leave them and take their hearts with her.

The second time, they were married and it made it easier, but it was still different. It was like relearning something you’d known for so long. Like riding a bike for the first time in years. It wasn’t forgotten, but it was different. Loving Rose Tyler was as natural as breathing—no matter the body, but new nerves and chemicals made just that slight bit of difference. Enough to make them come back to her hesitant, holding their breath as they waited for her to take their hand. 

The third time was scary. They knew she loved them. They knew. They could feel it just as clearly as they had on the day they were bonded. But her hand was shaking as she extended it towards their face. “This is different,” she whispered, and their hearts nearly burst at the furrow between her brows. “Good different or bad different?” they asked, terrified of the answer. She shrugged, “just different,” and then gave him a cheeky smile before going up on her toes to kiss them.

Every time.  _ New. _

The Doctor stared at herself in the mirror now. Reunited with the Ghost Monument. Reunited with Rose. They had to do it all again.

Rose had flung herself at her as soon as the ship had properly landed. The Doctor just barely getting a glimpse of the new interior before she had an armful of Human/Time Lord and a faceful of blonde hair.

“Oh I like the blonde!” Rose had laughed as she pulled back. “Still not ginger then?” As if hair colour was the only significant change.

The Doctor managed a small smile, but she was still gripping her arms like she was afraid she might lose her again (bloody ship constantly ejecting them every time they burst into flames). The Doctor was calculating everything about her wife. Her pulse was quickened but that could be from the adrenaline of reuniting. Their timelines were still in sync, so the inside of the Tardis has not been materialising as long as the outside has. Her orbicularis oculi muscle was engaged, so the smile was genuine. 

Rose’s eyes drifted to the people still standing just outside of the police box, and suddenly it all became about welcoming the new companions on board.

But now they were alone. Rose was in bed, on her side, and the Doctor was standing in the closet, which the Tardis had already taken the liberty of clearing out and stocking with multiple copies of the outfit she’d chosen at the Sheffield Discount Clothes Shop. There were twice as many bras in that drawer than their had been prior (though all the new ones were sports bras). The pants drawer had remained basically the same; she’d have to be a woman for at least another thousand years before she even considered giving up the comfort of boxers for whatever the hell those lacey knickers of Rose’s were attempting to do.

The Doctor let out a long sigh and grabbed one of Rose’s vest tops, shoving it on with a clean pair of boxers and calling it good enough.

Rose didn’t look up from her book as the Doctor exited the closet. A few moments of silence passed before she finally let her eyes wander from the page to where her wife was standing a few feet away. She raised a single brow in question. “Something the matter, dear?” Then she squinted. “Is that my top?”

“Er… is that okay?” the Doctor asked hesitantly, silently berating herself for not asking.

“Yeah, ‘course.” Rose laughed. “Guess I’ve been stealing your shirts for so long, it’s just about time you got a turn.” She stuck her tongue out between her teeth as she grinned at her.

The Doctor felt herself relax just slightly in the presence of that particular smile, but Rose finally seemed to pick up on her unease and she squinted at her in confusion. “You okay, Doctor?” she asked worriedly, shifting slightly like she meant to get out of bed.

The Doctor let out a long breath as she felt Rose prodding her mind, trying to find the source of her hesitancy. “Are you?” she asked.

Rose tilted her head. “Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

“Well… I mean… you know…” she made a vague wordless motion to her body. “It’s different.”

Rose did finally stand up at that, crossing the space between them in a few short strides. She laced one of her hands through hers, and it fit just as perfectly as it always did—as they both knew it would. “Not that different.” Rose reached up with her spare hand to tuck a stray hair back behind the Doctor’s ear. “Still you.”

“Yeah?” the Doctor choked out, slightly in awe.

Rose went up onto her toes to place a kiss to her lips. The Doctor calculated the height difference, measuring the distance from her heels to the floor, and comparing it to every other regeneration. She felt the press of her lips and counted the nerve endings which tingled in pleasure. Every atom of their noses that brushed together. The milliseconds it took for her eyes to close.

Rose let go of her hand to run her fingers through her hair, and the Doctor moaned slightly and deepened the kiss, wrapping her arms around her waist and pulling her flush to her. The part of her brain that wasn’t mindlessly screaming “ROSE!” was measuring and calculating every single molecule between them.

Rose’s hands ran down her arms and she smiled, pulling away and laughing as her wife attempted to chase her lips, not releasing the grip she had on her hips. “You’re soft,” Rose said.

The Doctor’s brow pulled together. “I’m sorry?”

Her fingers trailed circular patterns into her arms. “Your skin,” she clarified, “it’s soft. It’s different.”

“Good different or bad different?”

Rose rolled her eyes, wondering if she would still have to answer that question six thousand years from now on the twentieth regeneration. “Just different,” she replied, just as she had the last three times. She finally freed herself from her wife’s arms and started walking backwards towards the bed, a suggestive grin playing at her lips. “Why don’t we find out how different, eh?”

“Rose Tyler,” the Doctor breathed, shaking her head on a laugh—just as she always had. “You cheeky little…” she trailed off as she tackled her, and the two of them fell into the bed with shrieks of laughter.

Rose woke up first the next morning, which was unusual on a normal day, but pretty usual shortly after regeneration. The Doctor always tended to sleep more after changing their face. 

She traced the new lines of her face now, memorising the peaks and valleys like it was uncharted territory she meant to explore. After a few minutes the Doctor’s nose wrinkled, and Rose knew she was awake.

“You’re staring at me,” she said.

Rose laughed and knocked their feet together (a task made slightly more difficult by their entwined legs). “Can’t help it. You’re beautiful.”

The Doctor’s eyes fluttered open at that, and Rose instantly took to mapping out the greens and browns and how they swirled together with centuries behind them. 

Their hands found each other atop the sheets, their fingers slotting together on their own accord. 

“I found your ring,” Rose told her after a few seconds.

Suddenly the Doctor was flinging herself out of bed, and Rose groaned at the headrush the quick motion so soon after waking gave her. Same old Doctor, really. “Where is it?” she asked frantically, like this was suddenly a life or death situation.

Rose grumbled something unintelligible and probably not completely English as she flung her body weight towards her night stand and groped around in the drawer. “It was underneath the console. Really, that’s the second time this has happened. You should take it off before you regenerate instead of tossing yourself around the room spouting off nonsensical soliloquies.”

“I was waxing poetic!” the Doctor argued.

Rose rolled her eyes. “Completely unnecessary. I married a drama queen.” She pulled out the ring and handed it over. “And don’t think I didn’t notice the new coat. You’re not letting the same thing that happened to the one Janis Joplin gave you happen to that one. Or setting fire to the Tardis. Mark my words, you are stripping down naked and standing in an empty field on a barren planet next time.”

The Doctor waggled her brows suggestively at the image, but frowned as she slid her ring on and a few good centimetres of space remained between her finger and the band. “It doesn’t fit,” she complained.

Rose nodded, unsurprised. “We’ll have to get it resized. Not the same place as last time though, please. They’re going to think I’m a chapel slut too cheap to buy another ring.”

The Doctor brightened. “We’ll go to Dujaezel! Best jewelers in Axclon galaxy!”

Rose squinted at her suspiciously. “Also rather pretty, Dujaezel, isn’t it? Looking to impress a few humans, are we?”

“Well,” the Doctor replied innocently, “if they happen to experience the wonders of space travel while we run a quick errand, who am I to stop them?”

Rose smirked. Taking in strays. Same old Doctor.


End file.
